Roasted 2w ago21 views21 pts
We're sorry. Actually, no we're not.
The town's entire identity is a 1947 pile of foil and sticks that the Air Force explained decades ago, and you've been milking it ever since. The Army said weather balloon, then the Air Force said classified Soviet-spying balloon, and you took the one story with a flying saucer in it and built a downtown around it. That's not a hometown, that's a witness protection program with a gift shop.
Roswell's skyline is a UFO-shaped McDonald's and a whole downtown of alien-themed storefronts. The streetlights have alien eyes on them, because nothing says 'we have dignity' like lamp posts staring back at you like a Grey. Intelligent life has seen this town from orbit and kept going.
Once a year the town swells with costume-contest adults and inflatable saucers, and downtown merchants cash in like it's the only weekend that matters. That's not a tourism strategy, that's a hostage situation with a parade. The other 360 days, the museums sit there waiting for somebody to pay to look at a glass case of foil.
Roswell's culinary peak is a green chile cheeseburger, and the real fight is whether Julie's beats Big D's. Meanwhile your 'diverse' food scene includes an Asian Buffet and tacos with the salsa energy of a hospital cafeteria. Hatch, 200 miles of better chile away, has never once worried about you.
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